


tangerine

by kairiolette



Category: Free!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 23:34:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6398779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kairiolette/pseuds/kairiolette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rin shows up unannounced with fresh fruit and a feeling (written for harurintercourse week, day 7: exploration)</p>
            </blockquote>





	tangerine

**Author's Note:**

> written for harurintercourse week, a little late though! [here](http://kairiolette.tumblr.com/post/141916859932/tangerine) on tumblr!
> 
>  
> 
> Also say hi to me/talk RH with me on my twitter [@rachethyst](http://twitter.com/rachethyst) if you’d like!

Morning chores take Haru well into mid-afternoon before he decides on a break from stifling dust and cleaning supplies. Late spring sunshine blankets his house and smothers even the most stilted of movements, so much so that when Haru makes it to his living room and sees Rin—reclined as if he were on a beach towel, shirt folded up and tucked under his neck, his bag and a carton of fresh fruit from some nearby market laid out beside him on the floor—he believes it to be the Iwatobi-equivalent of some desert hallucination. Rin has the shutters open and a leg dangling off the deck, and hovering above his bare chest his fingers peel at the orange skin of a tangerine. Treading softly over to this image, Haru’s thrumming heartbeat keeps time to his racing mind; before him might be more of an oasis than a mirage. 

 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he calls out in greeting before Rin hears his footsteps or sees him approaching from behind. Rin regards him upside down, chin pointed to the ceiling and bangs falling from his face. Haru hovers over his head.

 

“Oh, Haru,” he mutters, only gently roused, as if Haru just nudged him awake. He doesn’t move to sit but instead seems to settle more into his sunspot on the floor, his grin so loose his eyes nearly close with it, “Surprise.”

 

“What are you doing here?” Haru wonders airily, feeling curiously playful, like he’s approaching some wild animal that wandered into his living room. He figures Rin is as unpredictable as one; Haru isn’t sure, if he held his hand out, whether Rin would bite it or nuzzle it. He sits before Rin, his knees by the crown of his head, as Rin swings his foot like a pendulum, toes brushing the blades of grass below them. He chews on a wedge of the split-open tangerine in his hand.

 

“Don’t be so cold,” Rin scolds, running his tongue over his teeth after he swallows. Haru smells orange zest and sweat, terribly alluring after inhaling chemicals all day. He glances from Rin’s mouth to where he peels off another wedge from the tangerine with a crinkling tear. Between the tips of his pointer and middle fingers, he holds it up for Haru. “I brought food.”

 

Haru moves to take it from him, but Rin pulls it out of his reach; even lounging upside down, his eyebrow quirks and his grin sharpens into a challenge. Haru steadies Rin’s wrist, a nudge from his thumb against the knobby bone of it, and dips down to take the tangerine between his teeth gingerly, lips dragging against the tips of Rin’s fingers.

 

The rose blush high on Rin’s cheeks might taste sweeter than the bitter aftertaste that fills Haru’s mouth. He pulls a frown that makes Rin pout in turn. “I just brushed my teeth.”

 

Rin gives a sympathetic hum low in his throat. Then his hands fly up behind Haru’s neck, clasping against the hair on his nape. He jerks his head down so sharply Haru sees stars, and Rin cranes his neck up to crush their lips together, backwards and sudden. His tongue teases at the edge of Haru’s bottom lip and he draws back with a tugging suction, and Haru feels as though it’s over before it started.

 

“Tastes fine to me,” Rin mumbles against the back of his hand once he settles against the floor once more, glancing over to where the shutters open wide on Haru’s sun-kissed yard. He clears his throat as the fingers still curved around the back of Haru’s neck idly tangle in his hair, rubbing against his scalp like he’s feeling around for something. He clicks his tongue. “You’re sweaty, Haru.”

 

“I’ve been doing chores since I woke up,” Haru manages, planting his clammy hands against the floor on either side of Rin’s head, biting back an  _ and what have you been doing? _

 

“This heat is hellish today,” he moans, letting his arm fall from Haru’s neck to drape across his eyes. His fingers skim Haru’s wrist on the downswing and the tangerine lies forgotten beside the rest of the fruit. Rin stretches, back arching off the floor. “Can’t get anything done.”

 

“You came here to laze about?” Haru teases, smiling when Rin glares up at him from behind his elbow. “That’s rare, Rin.”

 

“It’s not like I want to be doing nothing,” he mutters, squinting outside again, his eyelashes casting streaks of shadows across his cheek.

 

“What did you come here for, then?” Haru wonders, tempted to brush away the stray strands of hair that stick to Rin’s forehead. Rin, cutting through his sluggishness, tosses his cap up from the floor and catches it, grinning up at Haru.

 

“Do I need a reason?” he asks, reaching back to settle it straight on Haru’s head. His hand finds its way to the back of Haru’s neck again and he grips it tenderly, however sweaty it might be, and his other hand pats his cheek. Haru almost hopes he’ll tug him down again. “Spending time with this face will surely cool me down.”

  
  
  


Pulling down on the rim of Rin’s cap, Haru shields his eyes against the white glare of the sun as he steps out of the shade of his house to wrench left the creaky knob of his garden hose. Rin sits up to lean back against where the house opens up to the yard, facing Haru, stretching his legs out along the engawa like one of the stray cats that frequents his house for food. Haru sprays his garden down until the soil runs dark and water droplets stick like dew on the greening leaves and blooming flower buds, inspiring him to push his thumb down on the jet of water and aim it over at Rin. He yelps, splutters, flips a rude gesture, before returning to lazily pick at his fruit.

 

“Haru, bring the hose over here for a minute,” he calls, just as Haru finishes scrubbing his hands clean under it. When he complies, Rin holds up a plump peach, freckled red and yellow, out over the grass. “Rinse this off for me.”

 

Haru lets him run it under the water for a few seconds, twisting it around in his hand, pulling it back with a brisk shake. Water drips down the length of his forearm when he brings it up to his mouth to take a bite. With a jolt and a startled slurp, he holds it over the edge; the juice drips to the grass and runs orange over his fingers and down his forearm, his lips and chin stained with it.

 

“Ah, it’s way too sweet when it’s this ripe,” he whines after gulping it down, grimacing at the mess, glaring at the dark pit at its center and the rest of the tender flesh left for him to eat. Before he can take another sloppy bite out of it, Haru curls his hand around Rin’s sticky wrist. He drops the hose to the ground with abandon and dips in to taste for himself even more carelessly, Rin’s lips parted between his own, cool from the fresh fruit but hot when Haru licks his tongue inside and swallows his breath.

 

“Tastes fine to me,” Haru repeats once he pulls back. Rin touches his fingertips to his glistening lips, then tugs them into a frown.

 

“Are you trying to make me choke?” he asks against the back of his hand, as if he hadn’t done the same to Haru minutes ago and upside down. 

 

“You’re too sensitive when it comes to sweet things,” Haru notes instead. His thumb traces paths over Rin’s wrist bone.   
  


“Like I want to hear that coming from you,” he grumbles, but his pouting trails off into hushed laughter when he pushes up into Haru’s space, lowering his eyes and jutting his chin out, easily coaxing another kiss out of him. The parting smack of lips puts an inch between them once Haru feels something tepid and wet plop down onto the hand he has wrapped around Rin’s.

 

Juice from the peach drools over his thumb and down his own wrist, painting a sticky trail along his already hose-watered skin. Rin follows the path of the droplets with his eyes, and Haru, transfixed, wonders how anything between them could ever cool down when scorching came so much easier.

 

Rin shakes the peach out over the grass with one hand and takes Haru’s in his other. He parts his lips against the delicate skin of his wrist, where his ragged pulse flares and sends blood south. His mouth drags upward wetly, slipping his tongue along the sticky residue left by the peach over the tendon under Haru’s thumb. He entwines their fingers and turns Haru’s hand once his mouth reaches the joint, guiding his thumb to push past his lips into his mouth in a feverish slowness, sucking on it like it’s not his thumb and pulling it out until his lips are pursed in a smile around the tip of it. Haru wobbles a bit where he stands.

 

“It’s saltier this way, I guess,” Rin notes idly, tilting his head back until it thuds against the wall, staring at Haru through his eyelashes. He presses the back of Haru’s knuckles to his lips sweetly, as if he hadn’t just slugged him in the stomach.

 

There’s a retort or reproach somewhere in his head, though all that comes out, crushed in between kisses and sharp inhales, are desperate variations of Rin’s name. He realizes it’s not easy, sticking his tongue into Rin’s mouth, when Rin starts curling his own tongue around the tips of his pointer and middle fingers, poising them between his lips. He narrows his eyes at Haru, bares his teeth in another challenge. Haru hears the discarded peach thump against grass distantly, vaguely thinks  _ what a waste,  _ just as Rin’s hat falls backwards off his head and all his thoughts come to a fizzling halt.

 

Eyes fluttering shut, Rin sinks Haru’s fingers into his mouth again, just up to the second knuckle, tongue flattened and too warm, swiping up between them and licking around their tips after he pulls them out again. He makes a noise that’s a cross between a scoff and a laugh when Haru sinks them back inside, resting his forehead against Rin’s temple. If Rin thought he’d been sweaty before, he was surely drenched by now, consumed by the heat as Rin peppers kisses up and down his hand. He chuckles and turns his head to nose against Haru; Haru rests the pads of his fingers against his bottom lip before kissing him. He swallows his own panting and Rin’s startled whimper, licking past the roof of Rin’s mouth, desperate to taste where his fingers had been, chasing after the tangy residual taste of peach.

 

Haru surges after Rin when he pulls back, both breathing like they’re breaking pool water in a race; Haru swears he can hear the blood in his veins when he looks at Rin’s mouth. But Rin draws away when Haru draws in, just like he had pulled the tangerine out of reach until Haru claimed it with his mouth. Rin takes his saliva-slick hand and guides it down his chest, presses it to the solid front of his shorts.

 

“I’m so tense,” he growls, and Haru can feel it, swelling, growing tenser against the give of his hand through the cloth of Rin’s shorts. He cups him there, feeling the hardening shape of him, Rin’s breath puffing out humid against his cheek, head nudging against his own. His voice wavers and Haru feels his jaw clench. “It’s affecting my times. My training, you know.”

 

Haru drops his whirling head to Rin’s shoulder; he swears it weighs a thousand pounds.  _ Is this what you came for?  _ he wants to ask, or,  _ has it been that long since we last…?  _ Rin flattens his hand against his crotch, incrementally lifts his hips into the pressure and hisses a sigh; instead of asking him  _ just from  _ that _?  _ he mutters into his neck: “You can deal with that yourself.”

 

“It’s not the same,” Rin grunts, lips tickling Haru’s ear. He moves his hand from the back of Haru’s to the front of Haru’s shorts, groping between his legs and grinding the palm of his hand. Haru leans his weight into Rin, struggling to keep his balance. “You’re feeling it too, huh, Haru?”

 

“It’s your fault,” he manages, lifting his head only for it to thunk against Rin’s forehead again, breathing in when Rin breathes out. Rin rubs circles into where Haru’s shorts feel the tightest.

 

“Right, it’s your fault,” Rin fires back in an instant. 

 

“You should take responsibility, this time,” Haru urges, smiling, and when he speaks his lips brushes against Rin’s.

 

“It’s not all bad, then, right?” he sighs, and their mouths draw each other in again, by some gravitational pull Haru surely never learned about in school. He hoists one knee up onto the deck to advance closer to Rin, his sandal slipping off to fall into the grass, answering Rin’s choked-up  _ come to me, Haru,  _ with kiss after suffocating kiss, backing their way into the house again. Rin snakes his hands up Haru’s shirt and shucks it up his chest until Haru tugs it off himself; they kick off their pants at locker-room speed, leaving their clothes in an untidy heap beside them and their bodies covered only by pairs of briefs and no less heated up.   
  


“Should we go somewhere else, Rin?” Haru wonders, his hand finding again where Rin’s cock strains against his underwear, rubbing him there until he whines into Haru’s neck and follows it with a warning bite. Haru brushes their noses together. Rin’s eyes, unfocused and glassy, bore into his own; he slides close the far shutter with his foot and reaches out to the closer one with his hand. They don’t shut all the way; half a foot of sunlight streams in through the gap, but the room goes darker and Haru’s lips endlessly seek out Rin’s.

 

“Here?” he asks hoarsely, wondering just how tense Rin must be, curling his hands around his shoulders and hanging on, kissing down Rin’s chin.

 

“Let’s be adventurous,” Rin declares in return, far too coherently single-minded given the shortness of his breath and the stiffness flush against Haru’s leg. He untangles from Haru and swings himself around, languid and sticky where his skin drags against Haru’s, scooting so his hips rest up beside Haru’s head on the floor. He lets his head drop sideways into Haru’s lap, and Haru lifts up on an elbow to watch him. “I have something in mind.”

 

Rin traces the dips of his waistline with two fingers, grin sharpened and eyelashes lowered, and when he slides the tips of them under the band of his briefs Haru clenches every muscle he knows how to clench.

 

“Whoever comes first…” he starts and trails off into a hum, slotting one hand between Haru’s legs while the other strokes just under his briefs. He turns his face so his lips brush Haru’s thigh. “I can’t think—what should the stakes be, Haru?”

 

Haru tips his forehead into Rin’s hip beside him to escape the visual if not the feeling of Rin dragging his palm over the swelling bulge in his underwear, mouth hovering too close to where his cock strains up toward it. Haru, with a shaky breath and a steeled jaw, thinks about rinsing himself off with the hose.

 

“Whoever comes first,” he pauses to swallow dryly, Rin’s thigh muffling him, “wins.”

 

“Is it that tough for you?” Rin asks through a burst of rowdy laughter. He rubs his thumb in circles and Haru’s hips tremble. “This’ll be a lesson in endurance, then!”

 

Haru would turn his mouth against the skin underneath him and chomp down if he didn’t know Rin’s bite was far worse than his own, and his bark held little meaning when his own hard-on strained under heather gray briefs mere inches from Haru’s face. Instead, he hangs on to the dip of Rin’s waist where his hand fits, and his other hand he slides up and down the shaven inside of Rin’s thigh. “What are we even doing, Rin?”

 

“Something we’ve never done before,” he declares, dragging in one swift movement Haru’s underwear over the bump of his hip, past his knees, and down around his ankles. He settles back against his thigh, coaxing Haru’s legs apart with a hand, his face even closer to where Haru’s cock lies, dark and thickening under Rin’s gaze. Rin guides the head of it to his parted lips, his palm flat against the shaft; it lurches at the touch and Haru sucks in a hot breath against Rin’s skin. Rin’s eyes nearly cross in concentration as he presses his lips to the head of it, glinting eyes flitting under heavy eyelashes over to Haru’s face.

 

“Stop staring,” he growls, fingers ceaseless around Haru though his mouth pulls back in an angry frown. It quickly lifts into a smirk that he touches to the head of Haru’s cock again, lets his lips skim so lightly it hurts. “Don’t get left behind.”

 

With a huff Haru moves to peel Rin’s briefs over his protruding cock, fumbling when Rin starts dragging kisses up and down his own, open-mouthed and leisurely like he’s waiting for Haru to catch up, two fingers curled around the base of it. He nudges at Rin’s knee until his legs spread, watching Rin watch him as he lowers his mouth to the flushed skin where Rin’s thigh meets his groin.

 

“Like this?” Haru asks, wetting his lips and trailing his thumb up and down the underside of Rin’s cock, tracing a blue vein. They’re curled around each other, closed off from the rest of the room; Haru feels so hot he could start sparking. Rin scrapes his teeth low on Haru’s stomach.

 

“We can both feel it at the same time,” he reasons, parting his knees even more, eyelids heavy and head lolling against Haru’s knee. Haru curls his toes to keep his hips from rocking. “Smart, right?”

 

Haru thinks it won’t be so smart when they both overheat and pass out, liquified into puddles on his floor. But Rin guides the head of his cock to his open mouth again and sinks him into sudden heat, just as he had done with his fingers, and Haru, letting Rin steer his face down with an eager hand against his cheek, doesn’t think much anymore at all.

 

The vacant room echoes with an obscene repetition of wet slurps that Haru does his best to tune out as Rin leads them into an unsynchronized back and forth. Haru takes Rin’s length into his mouth until his nose brushes his quivering stomach, feeling him thick against the back of his throat when he swallows; Rin laves him with ceaseless kisses and licks and teasing strokes. Haru presses down Rin’s hips when they try to set the pace, Rin breaks his torturous pattern every so often to slip him fully  into his mouth and bob his head. His palm comes up to find Haru’s cheek, feeling where he pushes at Haru’s mouth from inside; their eyes meet in a heady exchange before Rin squeezes them shut. He covers Rin’s hand with his own, reveling in how his fingertips are somehow cool, as if the heat left them and traveled elsewhere. Haru too closes his eyes, picturing the way Rin had taken his fingers into his mouth, had curled his tongue around Haru’s own, had bitten into that peach.

 

“I think I’m winning, Haru,” Rin manages to huff after Haru’s hips buck so abruptly that Rin nearly gags around him. Haru thinks so too—he skims his hand along Rin’s thigh and hooks it under Rin’s knee, twisting them with a momentous heave so Rin lies on top. Rin grunts, Haru’s cock popping out of his mouth and dribbling against his stomach, but he catches on quick; he lowers his weight onto Haru, his thighs straddling his head and his torso pinning him to the floor.

 

Haru digs his fingers into Rin’s hips and draws them downward, dragging his hands up the flexed backs of Rin’s thighs and over his ass. He lets the tips of two fingers wander down the seam of him, pausing just above where his balls hang taut and heavy—he figures it’s less about winning and more about wanting to make Rin see what he sees, to make him feel as good as he’s feeling—when Rin freezes above him.

 

“Just where do you think you’re touching,” he growls, sitting upon his haunches and towering back over Haru. He wipes a menacing pout with the back of his hand, narrowing his eyes in a glare. Haru cranes his neck up so he can nip at the fleshy part of Rin’s ass, pushing his thumb against his entrance until Rin starts to give around it. Rin lets out a ragged sigh, composure melting.

 

“Still tense, Rin?” Haru teases in a rasp, dipping forward to kiss where his thumb had been. Rin’s mouth hangs open for a moment and he drops his hips a fraction toward Haru’s face, before biting his lip through either a whimper or a scowl.

 

“You have drool all over your chin,” he grumbles. Haru turns to wipe it against Rin’s thigh. Rin leans forward again out of Haru’s reach, this time to stick his hand into his bag, shuffling around, leaving Haru to shift restlessly beneath him, excruciatingly untouched. He presses what he fished out back into Haru’s hand—a mini tube of lubricant; the brand Rin always seems to have, whether it’s tucked away in his suitcase or squeezed dry in his sock drawer. Rin settles down on top of him again, his thighs hugging Haru’s ears, stiff with anticipation. Haru unscrews the lubricant with one hand, wondering distractedly who this will be worse for. 

 

Haru gets two fingers wet, lube dripping onto Rin as he prods their tips against his opening before easing them inside. Rin contracts around their gradual breach, unlike anything Haru had felt in his mouth; just as scalding but with an impossible coiling tightness. Rin makes a shuddering groan of a noise that Haru wishes he could hear against the shell of his ear, or that he could see his face as he makes it again and again. He glides the bump of his knuckles inside so seamlessly he can hardly stand to watch, though he slips them out and in again just to feel the stretch, to make sure Rin feels it too. Haru brings Rin back into his mouth as pushes his fingers all the way in, stilling them though Rin’s hips shake impatiently, before withdrawing them to the tips and slotting inside again. 

 

He swallows around Rin and drives his fingers until his jaw aches and his wrist cramps, until they’re both sweating as if they just came back from a morning jog; they would probably slide across the floor if Haru weren’t so thoroughly pinned to it. Rin mimics the rhythm of the plunge of Haru’s fingers with his mouth around his cock, his winded muffled gasps keeping time with each curl of Haru’s fingers. It takes all of Haru’s dwindling strength not to dig his heels into the floor and pump his hips, not to drop everything else and grind his fingers into Rin until he can’t hold himself up anymore.

 

“Your legs are shaking, Rin,” Haru says between harsh breaths, the head of Rin’s cock bumping wetly into his chin. Rin crushes around his fingers, the muscles in his thighs vibrating with strain around Haru’s head. He responds with a mantra of Haru’s name, whispered into his stomach; his body quakes above Haru, spurring the unrelenting stutter of his hips. Haru can do little other than swallow. He sucks in breaths through flaring nostrils as Rin spills into his mouth, and he lodges his fingertips as deep inside Rin as they can push, rubbing until Rin’s body goes boneless and he reaches back to yank them out.

 

He spins around on top of Haru, spent cock sliding out of Haru’s panting mouth, and he sits back on Haru’s thighs. He glows with a sheen of sweat, his blush spread up to his ears and down to his chest, and when Haru reaches up for him he comes down.

 

“You cheated,” he growls, kissing Haru until he forgets he needs to breathe. Rin straddles him, reaching behind himself with one hand to wrap around Haru’s cock, and Haru grunts through his teeth, face contorting. 

 

“I didn’t,” he insists half-heartedly, too breathless to ask why Rin’s always the one to make up the rules on the fly. Rin runs his thumb over the head of Haru’s cock in too teasing a motion, dipping down to bite along his jaw.

 

“You can put it inside me, if you want,” Rin says into his ear, and Haru grapples at his back, digging in his fingernails as Rin rubs his cock along the lube-slick cleft of his ass. “Think you can la—”

 

Haru’s hips snap, chasing the sudden friction between Rin’s hand and his ass, and when he comes, it’s less of a spill and more of a shot; Haru swears the  _ splat _ of it on Rin’s back is even more painfully deafening than the heartbeat between his ears. Rin winces into the crook of his neck, cradling the back of his head before it pounds against the floor.

 

“M-maybe later,” he laughs against his salty skin. 

 

“S-sorry,” Haru sighs, hardly able to muster another breath let alone sincerity. Rin giggles again, pressing his smile to Haru’s lips, winding him when he drops his weight down.

 

“I think that got in my hair,” he leers, throwing a hand over his shoulder to grope at the nape of his neck.

 

“Shut up,” Haru groans, cupping Rin’s face, swiping the pads of his thumbs under his eyes, smearing away tear tracks that always seem to find themselves down his cheeks after moments like these. Rin, sitting up on Haru again and nearly slipping down his stomach, gathers all of his hair back from his face and ties it up. Haru drips so much sweat that when Rin pushes his hair back from his forehead, it stays. He closes his eyes against a grimace. “Hose me down.”

 

“Hose my back down, first,” Rin jokes, but Haru ignores him, throwing an arm over his eyes. Rin hums, rolling his shoulders, glancing around his surroundings with a giddy grin like he’s restless, though Haru feels like he could stay on the floor for the rest of the day. Rin wrinkles his nose down at Haru, squirming on top of him. “I’ll help you mop your floor again.”

 

“I’ll take care of it later,” Haru sighs, wanting Rin to lie back down again despite the stickiness, for them to rock against each other until they can do it all over again. Instead Rin turns his attention to the carton of fruit still set out beside them. He scoops up a handful of blackberries, throwing some in his mouth, making a face even Haru could translate into words:  _ too sweet, needs more protein.  _ Rin smiles down as Haru stares up at him. He takes a couple of the berries in his hand and feeds them to Haru.

 

Their eyes lock and Haru freezes while chewing, the feel of Rin’s fingertips tingling too familiar against his raw lips. Rin snatches hand back. 

 

“We should take a shower,” he says gruffly, and the thought of a cool soak in the bath with Rin might be enough to scrape Haru off of where he seems to have melted onto the floor.

 

“You’ll have to carry me there,” Haru says, holding his arms lazily up to where Rin stands over him expectantly, spluttering in protest before sighing in defeat.

 

“Well, I did win according to your rules, didn’t I?” Rin says, laughing sheepishly, swooping down for a kiss before sliding an arm behind Haru’s neck and another under his knees.

**Author's Note:**

> written for harurintercourse week, a little late though! [here](http://kairiolette.tumblr.com/post/141916859932/tangerine) on tumblr!
> 
>  
> 
> Also say hi to me/talk RH with me on my twitter [@rachethyst](http://twitter.com/rachethyst) if you’d like!


End file.
